#will probably post this to ao3 as wwell bc i like it???

[merlinhurricane]

Oo! I finally got a prompt idea! first I was thinking a basic coffee shop au for shiniida (since you made me ship them) but then I thought iida probably wouldn’t work in a coffee shop (“somethin somethin *waves hand around* coffee health somethin”) so he probably ACTUALLY works in one of those juice places that are all natural and put kale in your drinks and sleep deprived shinsou stumbled inside and asked for a black coffee and couldn’t understand why the cute barista was giving him that look

oooooh, yes!! thank you, luv. please keep em coming!!

(tags: shiniida, college au, no quirks au, swearing, iida is no mere barista—he’s a fckin Manager check yoself, multiple POVs bc i Can’t Not)

***

Hitoshi didn’t understand what was happening. Why was this man staring at him like he had a third head? Second head, whatever. Jesus, he was tired.

“Sir, we don’t serve coffee,” came the insistent voice behind the counter.

“Why the fuck not?” Hitoshi’s glared blearily at him, eyes burning. What kind of place didn’t serve coffee? Especially a place called “Pep Up”. What was peppier than fucking coffee?

His outrage and confusion must have shown in his eyes because the hapless employee rattled off an explanation about natural and organic juices and healthy body supplements. Hitoshi didn’t need any of that. Rubbing his temples and trying to get the world to come into better focus, he groaned. “Okay, you’re my last resort. Can you just, like, talk to your manager and see if you can rustle up some caffeine for me? I’ll pay extra. Please,” he begged. The prospect of walking further away from campus in search of actual coffee was a daunting one.

“I am the manager.” The man before him affirmed. “And I can assure you we do not have anything caffeinated. Not only does caffeine create a mild dependancy but it is also a diuretic and can have lasting consequences if imbibed on a daily basis.”

“Mm-hm, delicious consequences,” Hitoshi murmured, causing the manager to stiffen in what Hitoshi assumed was disapproval.

“Indeed.” The manager sighed. “I suspect more than caffeine or any kind of energy supplement—” Hitoshi brightened at the word “energy”—“you simply need sleep.”

Hitoshi forced out a hollow laugh and attempted once more to bring the broad shop manager into focus. The lights in here were too harsh, the colors too bright. He should have known it wasn’t a coffee shop. Just about ready to give up on this place and try elsewhere, he turned toward the door.

Somewhere between the decision to leave and the execution, however, there was a disconnect. Instead, he found himself staring at a display right next to the door. It was full of oddly shaped bottles in an eye-searing shade of orange. He suspected he would’ve stayed in that exact spot for even longer if something cold hadn’t been pressed into his hand, nearly giving him a heart attack.

“Wha?” He instinctively shoved away the cold, despite it actually being a bit of a relief to his warm, probably dehydrated skin.

To his surprise the cold lingered, along with an amused huff of air against his cheek. Hitoshi looked up to see Mr. Manager. Dear god, he was pretty. Shoulders for miles, square jaw, baby blues, an undercut—he would have been too overtly gorgeous for Hitoshi to even consider if it weren’t for the glasses (he had a weakness for them) softening his look and the fact that the guy was literally holding Hitoshi’s hand wrapped around a plastic cup of smoothie to keep him from dropping it. “Uhh.”

The smoothie was bright green. Why did everything have to be so bright?

“Kale-kiwi mix.” The manager explained, dropping his hand once he was sure Hitoshi had a good grasp of the thing. “With some other stuff. It’ll help you sleep.”

Hitoshi snorted. Sure, this guy was hot, but Ryan friggin Gosling could’ve handed him this smoothie, and he still would’ve been skeptical about the results. Still... “How much do I owe you?”

The man smiled, a sharp, bright slice of white in his ridiculously handsome face. Oh no. “Free of charge. That’s not even on the menu, so it doesn’t have a price. Just, do me a favor and recycle the cup, okay?” He paused for a moment, mouth curling into an enchanting moue of consideration. Oh no. “Maybe after you get some sleep.”

Dazed, exhausted, and utterly smitten, Hitoshi nodded and wobbled out the door into the night, sipping on his definitely-not-coffee.

***

Hitoshi made it home...somehow. He remembered the streetlights stringing long squiggling tails of illumination across his vision, and that was his Stage 3 sleep deprivation indicator. He was sincerely lucky he hadn’t passed out on the walk back to his place.

On the counter sat his nearly finished smoothie. It had been surprisingly tasty, though the thickness made it feel necessary to drink water before he brushed his teeth and collapsed into bed. He was feeling surprisingly well-rested. At least, he assumed this is what “well-rested” felt like, since he couldn’t recall ever experiencing it before.

Snorting at his sardonic thoughts, he moved to throw away the cup before remembering what the hot manager had said. Technically, he didn’t have to acquiesce to his request—Hitoshi didn’t even have a recycling bin in his apartment. Still, the guy had put up with Hitoshi at Stage 3 and hadn’t even charged him for the damn drink. The least he could do was not fuck up the earth with one damn plastic cup.

Campus probably had some recycling bins, and he had to hit the library to finish his project anyway. Tucking the near-empty cup into the elastic cupholder on his bag, he began the trek to campus.

About halfway there, he realized he’d forgotten to make cis morning coffee. Him. Forgetting coffee. What was the world coming to?

Already mourning the lack of caffeine buzz he’d have later, he stopped in front of the library bins. A list of accepted recyclables and their corresponding numbers wwas posted above the special recycling receptacle. Sighing, Hitoshi pulled out the smoothie cup and checked the bottom for a number, then immediately got distracted.

On the bottom of the cup, written in fine black sharpie was a phone number along with “Pep Up and call me. :)”

***

Tenya had evening shift again, and as he walked in that afternoon, he couldn’t help but be apprehensive. It had been a long time since he’d given out his number, and the few times he had done it this way in the past year, none had used it. Whether that was because they were heathens who didn’t recycle or check the recycling number before they did or if they simply weren’t interested, he didn—couldn’t know. And that was the way he liked it.

The stunned and exhausted man from yesterday had caught his eye first because he was acting...odd. Tenya had watched him standing outside the glass double doors, staring up at the shop’s sign as if it was the best thing he’d ever seen. As if it were a candle and he were the moth. When he’d finally gotten inside, he’d continued to watch as the man’s eyes flitted around the room, intelligence and exhaustion shining there in roughly equal measure. He was built like a rock-climber—slim, tall, long arms and legs, and a bit hungry-looking. Tenya had a history with that look. Tenya would be willing to rewrite history for that look.

Going by the bulging bag and air of stress coming off him in waves, he was likely a student at the local university. When he finally approached the counter, Tenya met a set of pale, violet eyes and lost his train of thought entirely. Thankfully, the man was definitely too out-of-it to notice. He smelled like a combination of moss and coffee, so it was no surprise that he was looking to obtain some of the latter.

Despite his clearly tired state and the shortness of the conversation, he’d managed to make Tenya laugh more than once. What would he be like when he was firing on all cylinders? Tenya wanted to find out.

“You’re a cheeky bastard, aren’t you?” A voice shook him from his reverie, drawing his gaze to the front doors, propped open at the moment to let in both the afternoon breeze and the very man who had been occupying Tenya’s thoughts. A pity his words weren’t more...encouraging, though. He sighed.

The man was shaking a grimy plastic cup in his fist even as he walked up to the counter to confront Tenya. He was amused to see that the guy’s hair stood on end just as much now as it had when he’d first appeared in the shop—which was mostly empty right now, thankfully. He was manning the counter while the current barista was on break. He met those lovely, startling eyes head-on. Time to get this over with then. “I apologize for having offended you.” Why couldn’t he have just ignored his advance and moved on like everyone else? Tenya thought sourly.

“The only thing I’m offended by is your lack of faith in me.” The man’s face was still adorned with dark smears beneath his eyes that nearly matched the irises in color, but his face was more mobile, his voice and gestures more lively. “Telling me to sleep before attempting to throw something away doesn’t show a lot of confidence in my cognitive abilities. Kind of a slap in the face.”

Tenya knew the feeling. “And yet here you are, presumably having slept and still holding a dirty cup,” he commented, voice dry and throat drier. Had he not seen the number then? “You do know you’re supposed to wash them before recycling, right?”

“Who has time for that?” He complained.

“Who carries an empty cup around with them all day just for the sake of argument?” Tenya countered.

The man was just as quick to respond. “Who writes their number on the bottom of the cup? How’s that strategy been working out for you?”

Tenya remained silent for a moment. So he’d definitely seen the number. “...what is this about?”

“Mostly wanted to apologize for probably acting crazy last night. And to thank you. For this.” He held up the cup. It was still frustratingly unclear whether he meant the drink or the number.

Tenya took a chance. “You could’ve just called me.”

He was rewarded with a crooked smile. “Truth be told, I also wanted to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated you.” He leaned against the counter. “You seem like the kind of guy that only exists in my imagination.”

Tenya flushed and looked away to hide how pleased he was. “You’re ridiculous.”

The man just grinned wider and bent over the counter to read his name tag. “Tenya, huh? I’m Hitoshi. Can I buy you a drink?”

—End—

***